Country diary: To the old quarry, for a Triassic quest | Jennifer Jones
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<p><strong>Storeton Wood, Wirral:</strong> Two centuries ago, this landscape was being transformed by George Stephenson as he built Liverpool; more than 200m years ago very different creatures roamed here</p><p>At last, the sun shone after weeks of rain. While the distant Welsh hills were draped in snow, here on the Wirral it was dry and bright. <a href="https://friendsofstoretonwoods.org.uk/">Storeton Wood</a> is a secondary woodland of oak, beech and s
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Country diary: To the old quarry, for a Triassic quest Storeton Wood, Wirral: Two centuries ago, this landscape was being transformed by George Stephenson as he built Liverpool; more than 200m years ago very different creatures roamed here A t last, the sun shone after weeks of rain. While the distant Welsh hills were draped in snow, here on the Wirral it was dry and bright. Storeton Wood is a secondary woodland of oak, beech and silver birch, and formerly a quarry. Below, a cuprous layer of leaf has protected the soil from the recent assault of raindrops. Fallen limbs were a feast of fungi; in places, creamy white Storeton sandstone peeked through like discarded vertebrae. Great spotted woodpeckers drummed. Standing by the remnant of George Stephenson’s quarry track, I envisaged the 1838 scene: workmen busy extracting sandstone, sudden shouts of discovery and confusion, handprints in the rock. They thought they were the signs of people perished in Noah’s flood. Victorian scientists later confirmed that they were footprints of a crocodile-like creature named Chirotherium storetonense (Chirotherium meaning “hand beast”) dating from Triassic times, 240m summers ago. Back then, the creature’s world may have been a lake in a hot, Europe-wide desert, the muddy edges preserving its impressions. Eventually, slabs featuring the footprints were dispatched to several museums, and the Liverpool Natural History Society (sadly now defunct) offered 20 shillings to be distributed “among the workmen of the quarry” for their find. The quarry, long infilled by spoil from the construction of the first Mersey tunnel, is now invisible, but deep time caught up with the millennium when a replica Chirotherium was engraved on the wall surrounding the wood, to celebrate the discovery. I went in search of the replica, negotiating hummocky ground and fallen tree trunks, pausing to marvel at the fungi, and beginning to fear my quest would be futile. Suddenly, there was Chirotherium, bright on t...
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